


LIKE Him Like Him, Like, a Lot

by eggstasy



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4873123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggstasy/pseuds/eggstasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it makes him a sap but he loves it when Tucker bows over him, presses his chest to Wash's back and he thinks he can feel the th-thmp of Tucker's heart against his skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	LIKE Him Like Him, Like, a Lot

Wash makes a note to himself to ask Kimball about the ventilation in the barracks, because they seem to be lacking. There's no way that his room smells THIS MUCH like sex and sweat when this is the first time he's had sex in it, and there's no way he's going to get that smell out of here for days unless he leaves the door open and lets the armies of Chorus find out exactly how he spent his Tuesday night.

"Mmph," Wash says, leaning more heavily on his elbows as he lets his head hang, lets his forehead rest atop his clasped hands because that deep push and drag back out is starting to turn his brain to jelly, starting to make him go offline. Usually they do this in Tucker's room just because Tucker's quarters are closer to where they usually start eyeballing each other; it just always worked out that way, and nobody is going to step into Tucker's pigsty and NOT expect it to smell like he'd just had an intense fuckathon in there hours earlier. It doesn't incriminate either of them.

However.

Something must have happened because Tucker came to see him in his quarters this time and had run his hands over Wash's shoulders before climbing into his lap and kissing him and he'd been slow about it for once, like how he knows Wash likes, and he'd pressed his hands into the kevlar in the gaps of the armor and he'd had his fucking teeth on Wash's ear and then he'd said, "Hey, suck my dick and I'll fuck you any way you want."

Wash had Tucker on his back and his cock in his mouth faster than he could field-strip an SMG, which is pretty goddamn fast if he were to be honest. And he decided it would be a good idea to finish him there, swallow him relatively dry (temporarily dry, hopefully) because Tucker comes quick and comes often and Wash is going to ask him for something slow and deep and maddening for them both because when Wash wants to be fucked, he wants to be fucked and maybe that masochism has gotten him into trouble before (and it might get him in trouble again tonight) but he doesn't regret it when Tucker whimpers and gasps and pulls his hair.

Tucker makes good on his word though; teases Wash and opens him up, they spend at least fifteen minutes just making out until they'd had enough and Tucker started to complain about chafed lips and Wash took mercy on him, pushed him back and told him to wrap his pecker and get in already. Tucker told Wash romance was dead. Wash responded that Tucker wouldn't know romantic if it sucked his dick half an hour ago.  Tucker protested, told Wash, "I'm the _Love_ doctor!" and sounded so much like he actually believed it that Wash actually laughed.

It had been nice banter-y foreplay for what's happening now. "Wash, I hate you," Tucker breathes against Wash's shoulderblade and Wash laughs, a hiccupping sound because Tucker's keeping his thighs pressed against the back of Wash's and circling there after Wash told him two minutes ago that he really liked that. Well- okay, not told with his words exactly, but he made it obvious by the half-moon nail marks on the outside of Tucker's hip.

"You have to...to savor things sometimes, Captain Tucker," Wash mumbles as his brain melts in his skull to the drumbeat of _good, good, so fucking good_ and Tucker is taking _years_ to push back in after pulling out. Maybe it makes him a sap but he loves it when Tucker bows over him, presses his chest to Wash's back and he thinks he can feel the _th-thmp_ of Tucker's heart against his skin.

Tucker reaches around Wash's hip for his dick and Wash grabs his hand, wraps it up in his and presses them both into the sheets. "No, keep going."

"Are you serious? Dude," Tucker complains and he jerks his hips hard in defiance before holding there (and Wash will eat his helmet before he admits that sharp jab to his prostate almost made him yelp). "You're not gonna come just from this. I'm dying here."

"You aren't dying," Wash says impatiently, still shaking but the fog in his brain clearing up with the conversation. Unacceptable. He wants to be submerged in this feeling as long as he can stand. He wants his brain off for at least the next six hours, starting now. "Stop complaining so much and get back to work."

"Slave driver," Tucker mutters, but gives in and gets back to it and Wash is pretty sure it's because he actually kind of likes it. Also because Wash gave him great head earlier so he's largely satisfied, and really only doing this for the extra punch.

Wash doesn't notice that he's started groaning low and rhythmic until Tucker sits back on his heels, pulls Wash's hips closer and presses a hand up his spine, slicking over the sweat pooling there. "Dude, you're like fucking pudding down there. You really like this, don't you?"

"God, yeah," Wash breathes, rocking back when Tucker pulls him, arms shaking and he might be reaching his limit soon but this is good, it's really goddamn good, it's- he doesn't know how long but it's been a long time compared to all his fifteen-minute fucks with Tucker and this is just what he needed.

Then Tucker goes quiet (which in and of itself is telling) and runs his hand up and down Wash's back again, slow and pressing in like a massage and Wash shudders, feet turning in and tucking beneath Tucker's shins, toes against his skin. "Tucker," Wash whispers, shoulders jumping when Tucker hooks his hands at his hips and yanks him back.

"Okay dude," Tucker says, and Wash knows that tone. That's his 'I get it' tone, his 'I have an idea' voice where he's one part hesitation but six parts confidence and Wash loves it, he loves it because it means Tucker's finally sure about something instead of puffing his chest up with all that false bravado he totes around to make himself look bigger. Tucker smoothes his thumbs up and down Wash's sides. "Alright, Wash. Lean forward."

Wash hurries, bends his elbows, ass in the air and Tucker spreads his legs and he goes deep, holy shit, so deep and Wash sucks in a breath at that before Tucker presses him down further until he's almost flat against the bed. He reaches around Wash, snags the pillow and bunches it up, shoves it under Wash's stomach and reaches past him again. Closes a hand around the metal frame. "Okay, like...press your hands there, past the bar- yeah, on the wall." Wash curls his fingers under, knuckles against the plain cement brick of the wall and shakes in anticipation. He can't resist a quip though, and maybe that's what makes him a real Blue. "So clinical. Maybe you really are Doctor Love."

"Shut up," Tucker pants as he fucks him a little harder, hard enough that Wash thinks that while Tucker is not as skilled as he claims to be, he's still damn more skilled than people give him credit for. "Do you have some kind of authority kink or something? Call me sir and maybe I'll go harder."

Wash flexes his fingers against the cement, thinking even as Tucker starts up with this weird- this different motion and he's just almost at a really good spot, enough to make his breath hitch and his whole body tense. "I'll consider it."

"You're such a fucker," Tucker mumbles, pulling and shoving and pushing at Wash's hips, obviously trying to find the best angle and he finds it for just a second before Wash's leg gets a cramp and they have to stop, readjust. "GOD! Seriously Wash, you're almost making this work!"

"Work can be satisfying too," Wash protests but he pulls at Tucker anyway because they'd almost had it and his dick is probably going to explode if he doesn't come soon, and he's almost done playing around but Tucker is starting to look legitimately frustrated so maybe he should try to be nice. "Okay. Okay look, I'll tell you when it's good, okay? No more Captain."

Tucker gives him a suspicious glare.

"Promise."

As they start again Wash learns something too; Tucker is willing to work harder at sex but he needs to feel like he's being appreciated. He'll scoff and brush it off and say things like 'wow okay now you're just embarrassing yourself' or sometimes he won't say anything at all, but Wash can tell by the way his palms rub over his skin or the way his fingers tighten a little on his hips. Tucker needs praise.

" _Hah,_ " Wash breathes out, sharp like a punch to the gut when Tucker finds a really good spot and he hangs his head like it's too heavy to hold up with everything else going on. "God yeah, there..." Tucker adjusts and his cock drags right over Wash's prostate like a fucking tank and he shudders, toes curling. " _Shit_ right there. Oh shit."

He's usually not so vocal during this part- or he wasn't before but that was years ago since he'd last been with someone. Maybe if his brain wasn't such fucking mush he'd be a little more embarrassed but he's been making Tucker tease him for what has to be close to an hour now and he personally can't take much more of this.

He knows he got it right -guessed it right- when Tucker leans over his back again (that heartbeat, _th-thmp_ right against his skin, god he loves that feeling) and kisses the back of his head in a semi-hesitant sign of affection. And he goes harder, a little harder and a little faster and again and again, not like that zero-to-sixty in two seconds speed that Tucker prefers but at Wash's pace. He didn't expect that part. He didn't expect Tucker to try so hard to accommodate him and the idea shakes him a little, that Tucker really does want him as happy as Wash wants Tucker.

"Thanks," Wash chokes out awkwardly, reaching back to give Tucker's hip a squeeze and to Tucker's credit, he doesn't even stop.

"Are you seriously- thanking me for- fucking you," Tucker laughs in between pants for air, hiking Wash's hips up off the pillow to move a little faster (and that's kind of bad since that means Wash can't grind his dick against it).

"It's- it's an- _ohhh fuck_ , it's something to, uh," says Wash because it's getting really hard to think, sparks of lightning cracking at the edges of his mind whenever Tucker's dick knocks up right against that bundle of nerves and who fucking cares anymore, Wash just gives up, fingers curling into fists against the bed and Tucker, the bastard, he tucks a hand around Wash's hip to just cup his dick up against his stomach, doesn't even rub at him or anything and maybe Wash told him not to before but that was before and now is now and he's gotta come soon, he really wants to come this time, he's- "Shit, forget it, just-" he tries to say and Tucker gets it again, that wordless communication, and honestly he should be really impressed that Tucker lasted this long even if it's his second time because Tucker doesn't usually have this kind of patience.

But it's for him, right, isn't it? It's for him and it's because Tucker likes him, really likes him, likes him likes him in the same way he like likes Tucker, that stupid thing that's like romance but different for people like them, more like essential, like a canteen in a desert and maybe Tucker is what he didn't even know he'd been looking for because his heart pounds against his ribs as Tucker rubs a thumb over the head of his dick and his hips jolt as he comes, as Tucker fucks him hard but not really fast (just like he wanted, just like he asked) and Tucker says something like "Wow dude" or "Shit shit dude" or maybe those were two different ones because time does something weird in his head but not bad weird, not bad like Epsilon but good like someone stroking his chest while they lay together in the dark.

Tucker must've come too because he's pulling out and Wash drops against the bed, thighs burning and he's pretty sure Tucker's spent because all he does is pull off the condom and drop it over the side of the bed ("Gross Tucker, at least tie it" and "I can't fucking tie it, it's all lubed up, don't be such a baby it's in the shopping bag") but Tucker's got a slick finger wriggling back inside because he knows Wash lives for those few minutes after where every touch makes his whole body spark and catch fire like it's doing now.

More than just fucking or getting a fix, Wash realizes that this whole exercise has been an adventure in learning what Tucker knows about him and he shivers, shudders, Tucker's finger gentle inside of him but touching just right, shit, enough to make him make noises into the bed and make Tucker laugh and that sound is great, it's just fucking great. Tucker's laugh and his room smelling like sex is the best fucking thing in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> more skypefic, this time with judge [gingerfrost](http://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerfrost/pseuds/gingerfrost) presiding, HEYOOO
> 
> tuckington naturally  
> i swear i ship other stuff too _i swear to goD_


End file.
